Everything is Nothing Without You
by SeerBlack
Summary: How can the Winchester's be so close, yet always be seperated? The end of a hunt has gone badly, leaving Dean mentally unstable and Sam's near the breaking point himself after learning that he's going to die but they don't know what went wrong.
1. Insane

"Sammy!"

Sam Winchester woke up with a start, heart pounding against his chest as he practically jumped over to Dean's bed. He cradled his older brother's head in his hands, stroking his hair away from his face and murmuring words of comfort beneath his breath. He watched as his brother turned into his palms, sighing softly and seeming to slip back into some form of slumber. Sam sighed and pulled the blankets up tighter around Dean, biting his lip worriedly as he returned to his bed. He didn't know how he would be able to hold on for much longer.

Ever since the last hunt Dean had taken a turn for the worse, muttering and searching for something that wasn't there. He was completely different from the brother he had always known, sure sometimes he would revert to the way he was and Sam would practically burst into tears when he changed back. But Dean was Dean, no matter what and Sam had promised his brother he would always be there. Sam curled back under the covers and watched his brother sleep, his face looking years younger than it usually did. He sniffled slightly and checked the time on the clock next to him; it had only been five minutes since the last one.

For a while it had seemed like a dream, Sam had actually pinched himself to try and prove that he was asleep. Part of him still didn't want to believe that his brother had finally been taken from him, that now all he was left with was an empty, _insane_ husk of his brother, his _Dean_. The other part knew that Dean was still there somewhere, trying to get out, to come back to him. On a rare occasion Dean would look at him and smile, like he was only joking around with him, then he would turn around and mutter something about trying to find him, trying to find _his_ Sam.

"Sammy! I can find you!"

Sam once again threw off the covers and raced over to his brother, holding down his arms as he began to thrash wildly. Dean seemed to instantly calm at the touch and he stirred, his blue eyes widening as they took in the scene around him. Dean hissed under his breath at his younger brother, allowing himself to shoot worried glances around the room.

"Sam, what are you doing? I told you I would protect you, you should go back to the impala."

Sam fought with the urge to just walk out and leave, but he couldn't, not to his brother. Dean had looked after him when no-one else would, when their father had left them to go hunting. Sam had so many things to repay him for, and now that Dean needed him, he was considering _deserting_ him. Sam watched blankly as his brother sat up and scanned the room, his hand darting to make sure there was a knife under the pillow. His eyes resettled on Sam, and took a moment to register that he was looking at his brother. Sam readied himself for the same question that he had heard twenty million times already.

"Sam, I thought I told you to go to the car."

"You did Dean, but it's late and you should get some sleep."

He watched as Dean ignored him and got out of bed, pacing around the room's perimeter and checking the salt barriers, the guns, the duffels. He watched as his brother walked back to the bed and pause, apparently lost. Dean looked around the room and began to speak when he saw Sam. Sam stood up and walked over to Dean, grabbing his shoulders and staring into his confused eyes.

"Dean, I'm safe. We're safe here ok?"

He felt like he was talking to a child, and in a way he was. But Sam was running out of time to talk to Dean. He didn't know how long he had left, but the egg-timer had been turned upside down and the grains of sand were trickling away. Dean shrugged Sam off and walked into the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him. Sam sagged onto Dean's bed, the palm of his hand firmly pressed into his forehead. He could feel the all-too familiar sensation of the lump in his throat and the stinging of tears forming behind his eyes.

He felt like he was drowning, the only rock that he had to save him was gone. Sam cursed angrily as the tears streamed silently down his face, dripping off his chin and onto his legs. He hardly registered the bathroom door opening, or the presence of his brother beside him. Sam felt his brother's arms wrap around him and pull him into a hug and it tore him up how even though his brother had lost so much he _still_ was there to comfort him. He shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of Dean's heartbeat and relaxing slightly with the soft stroking of his back.

"Shh Sammy, everything's going to be ok. We'll figure out what's wrong with you and then I'll make that son-of-a-bitch pay for what he's done."

"Dean, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm dying, and nothing you can do will stop it. I have to look after you."

He heard Dean's breath hitch in his chest and he looked up to his older brother's face. Dean frowned at him and pushed Sam away, holding him at arm's length. He seemed to be judging him.

"Sam, mom says she doesn't want you in heaven. I don't want you in heaven either."

Sam gave a hollow laugh and shook his head.

"Mom doesn't care Dean, she's _dead_. Dad's _dead._ Do you understand?"

"Don't talk about mom and dad like that Sam. It's disrespectful."

Sam stood up and walked around the room, stopping when he got the doorway. He whirled around and faced his brother, he was arguing with a mentally unstable man, and he was _losing_ his mind.

"They're _dead_ Dean, they don't give a damn!"

"I'm getting tired of this attitude Sam Winchester."

Sam felt himself sink to the floor, unable to keep back the tears that now cascading down his face. He could hear himself laughing like an idiot, like he wasn't in control of his body. Sam watched as Dean stepped back for a moment, almost like he was confused at whom the person in front of him was. Dean shook his head and then stepped toward Sam, crouching on the floor to become eye-level with his brother. Sam hiccuped sadly and gave Dean a tired look.

"I feel so lost Dean. I don't know if I can keep going anymore."

Dean smiled and hugged his brother, sitting beside him so he could bundle his younger sibling into his lap.

"I know, but it's alright now. I've found you."

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, some other more intelligent people do. I just play with them from time to time.**

**A/N: I was in a strange mood when I did this, so yeah. All mistakes are mine and such. Enjoy!**


	2. Devotion

Dean watched over the slumbering form of his baby brother. Sam seemed so tiny, so frail and so innocent when he slept. Just like he had been as they were growing up, as a tiny infant in his arms. He still slept the same way, curled over to his side, hands and arms hidden beneath the pillows, gripping them for protection in the night. Sometimes it just killed Dean to watch his brother suffer everyday because he couldn't think- he couldn't _be_ the brother that he was supposed to be. To protect him from everything that could cause harm. He watched as the digital clock ticked the minutes by, the same relentless passage of time.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

Dean wished he could change what had happened, try to form some sense in their already screwed up lives. It was killing him that everything sounded so right, so _perfect_ in his mind and so normal and when he spoke it was wrong, _wrong_ and broken, twisted. Almost like the way he acted, it was like he wasn't in control of his body. It frustrated and tore him apart to see Sam so tired and weary and _lost_. Just listening to his sibling's harsh breathing killed him, knowing that somehow it had all been his fault. His fault. Dean had nearly screamed after Sam had gone off his rocker, crying and laughing and telling him that he was _dying_.

Dean had spent so much of his life trying to look after his baby brother, his little Sammy, to keep him protected and loved and sheltered. Hell, even when his little brother questioned him about why everyone else had a mother and he didn't, he still managed to tell Sam that the family they had was enough. But it wasn't. Not now, not ever. Every bruise, cut, graze that his little brother had accumulated he had tended to. He had been Sam's mother, father, best friend, _brother. _It had destroyed him when Sam had left for Stanford, leaving him alone to spend the next years in a zombie-like haze.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

Sam rolled over in his sleep, tearing him away from his fractured thoughts. Dean gave a small smile, an echo of what he had been before. As if sensing his brother's gaze Sam sat up, rubbing at his eyes blearily. He spoke to his brother slowly, as if he were a small child.

"Dean? Why aren't you 'sleep?"

The sudden overwhelming sense of irritation came over him as his tongue and mouth struggled to find the words. To find someway of telling Sam that he was still here, trying to find a way out to help him. Sam stood up closing the gap between the two of them quickly and placing his hands on his shoulders. He kept eye contact with Dean the whole time, never breaking it for a second. Dean pushed his brother away harshly, shaking his head the whole time. Sam just stood their patiently like he always _goddamn_ did. He just wanted Sam to scream at him like he knew he wanted to.

"Dean."

"Sam, why aren't you in the impala? I have to keep you safe."

His words made no _sense_. Why did he keep repeating them? Was he really so insane that he couldn't _tell_ that he was insane? Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, a hand in his hair, pulling at the roots. Sam took a precautious seat next to him, devoted, loving, _innocent_. Sam pretended like he had all the time in the world for Dean, that there was nothing more important to him that his brother. Part of him wanted Sam to leave him at the nearest nut house and live the remainder of his life happily, but the other part craved and clung to the affection and attention he was getting. He felt so selfish. So rotten inside himself that when Sammy died there would be no point continuing on.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

"Someone, clock. Shut up."

"What Dean? What do you want?"

_I want to have my life back!_ He looked at his brother, knowing that the barely concealed rage and pure desperation shone in his eyes. Sam cocked his head to the side, looking around the room for some sign of what Dean wanted. He finally landed on the green neon numbers glistening from the digital display and he walked over to it, picking it up and showing it to Dean.

"Is this it Dean? Would you like me to turn it off?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to even speak anymore. It was like it was getting worse, like something was gradually making him lose his mind. He wanted to remember what had happened at the hunt where it had happened. Sammy wouldn't even talk about it, no matter how hard Dean tried to pressure his younger to listen to him. Everything-those answers that he wanted so badly- could be found if they just went back to where they had last hunted. Sam was holding him back like he was protecting him from something so terrible he would disappear completely.

Nothing could do that, or rather nothing could before that hunt. His eyes traced his brothers' steps as Sam checked the salt lines, the duffels, everything that gave some semblance of normalcy in their lives. Dean felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes and he froze. He refused to cry, to break and show Sam how much he had lost. He lay back down on the bed, earning a look of approval and a nod. He closed his eyes and felt the sweaty covers pulled over him reassuringly and tantalising him with the thought of sleep. But even when he dreamed he was still as confusing as now. He wanted to know what was going on, he had to know.

"Sam. Last hunt… I'm damaged?"

"You're not damaged Dean."

"Liar."

"Whatever Dean, just get some rest ok?"

Dean gave a sleepy nod and sank further into the cheap motel bed, breathing in the scents of the room. He would sort everything out in the morning.

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**A/N: I blame this on the people who wanted another chapter. Also thanks to Danielle for the Wow!Factor review, I've never made any cry before (unintentionally) so thanks heaps.**


	3. Premonitions

Whispers echoed in his ears. The soft serene murmurings wrapped around him and soothed him into an even deeper sleep. The whispering became harsher, more urgent until the resounding cries of his name laced with concern and a need for him to hear it rebounded through his mind. Sam shot straight up, trashing around in his blankets as he struggled to remove himself from sleep's icy grasp. He cast his mind from the still tantalising prospect of drowning himself in his dreams. He felt rather than saw his older brother sit next to him and rubbed tiredly at his eyes to clear away the sleep that had accumulated there.

He breathed in heavily and pushed himself off the bed, staggering toward the adjacent bathroom. He twisted at the rusty taps and scrubbed his face red raw as soon as the half frozen water spluttered out. He needed to be perfectly awake and ready. He had to look after Dean. Sam never looked in the mirror anymore; he already knew what his reflection looked like. Dean had once joked around that after his little hunting accident one time (where he had nearly severed his spine) that Sam had become nothing but a stick, a giant stick. And now he was even more of a giant stick. He barely ate, only when it became a necessity or he forced himself to for Dean's sake. He walked back out of the bathroom always slightly worried what would happen to Dean if he left his side for too long.

Dean had remained sitting on his brothers' bed, apparently quite content to sit cross-legged and fray the bottom of his pant sleeve more than it already was. Sam walked over to him batting his hand away from his clothing long enough to pay attention to him. Dean gave him a bright smile and cocked his head to the side as he watched him. He reached a hand out to touch the side of his brothers face and right it again, releasing a pent up breath as he wondered how he was going to help him. After the rather limited conversation last night that he had with his elder Sam had considered talking to Dean about the future and how Dean was going to fit into it. As if sensing his brother's intention Dean removed Sam's hand from his cheek and instead held onto his wrist.

"Sammy. Answers I want."

"I know Dean, I know.' Sam briefly fought with his conscious over the safety issues of taking Dean back there. 'But it's not safe if we go back there. Do you understand Dean?"

Dean nodded his head. Sam grimaced at his brother apparently Dean still hadn't lost his unwavering desire to get back into hunting, or at least go hunting so he could find answers. Still, Sam couldn't blame him after what had happened. He stood up and wandered over to their duffels, hoisting them onto the nearest bed as Dean looked at him with some sense of gratitude. He pulled out some comfortable clothes, tossing a clean pair over to his brother to change into after a night of sweltering temperatures. Dean grabbed them and walked into the bathroom, disappearing as the door closed. He stared at the door for a few moments before he wriggled out of his sticky t-shirt and boxers and replacing them with the fresher pair. He stuffed the old clothes back into the bag and then proceeded to double-check that their hunting gear was in top condition for their mission. Sam had known for some time that they would go back.

At first he had tried to deny it. The first few days after the last hunt Dean had seemed ok. It was only when he had seen Dean shaking his head and muttering about the strangest things that he had suspected something. It felt like years ago, when it had only been a few months. Those months, they had been dragged out for so long, to very long. Sam felt stretched beyond what he should have been, he felt like he was paper thin. Still the memory of that hunt still lingered in his mind, forcing their way to the surface. He had known that something bad was going to happen, that having those visions of Dean screaming in pain had been real, but Dean had never left his side the entire time.

_Sammy, oh god Sammy, help me. _He could hear Dean's words clearly, after having them burnt into his mind. Every day for two weeks prior to that hunt he had the same vision, the same _nightmares_ of Dean trapped, helpless. _Sam, Sam, my skin is burning. I can feel it burning. Save me. _He had screwed up so badly this time. He knew that it had meant something, and he had ignored it. The same way he had ignored them with Jess. Beautiful, sweet Jessica.

"Sam?"

He jumped about a mile high. A smile flickered across Dean's face and he playfully pushed his brother's shoulder. Sam allowed himself to smile and bob his head firmly clamping the memories back down into the deepest corners of his mind. Dean looked at him curiously as he meandered over to the duffel, also scrunching his used clothing to the bottom of the bag. He zipped it back up, picking the two heavy objects up easily and shouldering them with no complaints. He stared pointedly at the door and Sam stood in front of it.

"Dean, I know you're tired of being like this. But I don't know if I want to risk losing you."

Dean just stared at him, an unnerving piercing stare that bore straight through him. He could almost see the future accusations in his eyes as his brother shoved past him to get to the impala. He cursed silently but followed him out to the car, depositing the keys into the drop off desk before Dean even had time to start the ignition and bail on him. He didn't have to get close to his face to know the pained expression as Sam climbed into the driver's seat. Everything that had meant the world to him had gradually been taken away. Somehow, he mused, the only thing that was probably keeping Dean together was the prospect of gaining some answers. Sam revved up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, keeping a firm eye on the road ahead.

He peered out of the corner of his eye as Dean leant toward the radio, pushing a cassette tape into the player and relaxing as the harsh sounds of 'The best of Mullet Rock' blasted through the cars interior. No matter how much Dean had changed in those months _those terribly long months_ his love for his rock music didn't. In some ways Sam was thankful for the little bit of Dean he had left. He risked a glance at his brother and gave a small wistful smile as Dean snored gently. He was always tired nowadays, resting whenever he had the chance. He had read on the internet somewhere that increased sleep meant that his body was shutting down, but Sam had refused to believe that. Doomsayers the lot of them.

But Sam knew that sooner or later he _was_ going to leave Dean. He still felt terrible for his earlier break down at Dean. He felt better that he had managed to tell Dean that he was dying, but the thought of what the end result was going to be haunted him. They had to find some answers.

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**A/N: Yeah this is going to change from Dean-Sam's perspective. It'll get some meaning in the end. Enjoy it though, the updates probably won't be daily for much longer though.**


	4. Missing You

It was ten past twelve in the morning and Sam still wasn't back. He had been waiting and waiting, ever since that gigantic Sasquatch of a brother of his had left the impala to get a room. Here he was, abandoned (no, just left alone for a while) in the middle of no-where whilst his younger brother had disappeared. Under normal circumstances Dean would have leapt out of his classic car and cracked open the trunk to get to the weapons. But these weren't normal circumstances anymore were they? He looked around at the surrounding scenery before he continued to glare out the front windscreen in an attempt to make things better.

A loud 'thunk' reverberated on the roof. The impala shuddered and groaned as if a large weight was now pressing down into it. Dean stared at the roof in horror and some traces of anger.

"The hell?"

If someone was playing a practical joke, they were going to get an assful of rock salt headed their way. He slipped his hand through the door handle, snapping it open quickly as he exited the car. His breathing became ragged as he looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with the feeling of being watched. His eyes darted to the roof of the impala his eyes trying to discern the shape on the roof. He took a precautious step forward and it disappeared, almost like it was a wisp of smoke.

The twinkling lights from the motel distracted him from the car and he waited, waited for his Sam to come back and tell him that it was all in his imagination. Sam had been gone for an hour, he had disappeared- abandoning him (no, just leaving him alone for a while.) He didn't even know if they were close to the place where everything had gone wrong, everywhere looked the same now, he couldn't even tell the difference between one motel room and another. He felt a lump constrict his throat and he pounded his fist on the roof. Sam had to have been taken; he wouldn't just leave him there. He knew that Sam hated the way Dean was but his brother would never consider it he _wouldn't._ He sank to his knees and pressed his palms against the shiny black paint of the impala his chest shuddering as he tried to contain the painful sobs in his chest.

He was Dean Winchester; he was the one who protected his family. He was stronger than this, he didn't crumble Dean Winchester _didn't_ crumble. He pushed down all the insecurities and the overwhelming feeling of loneliness and fear. All he had to do was get to the motel, and then he would ask them if they had seen Sammy and they would find him, they would bring his Sammy back. He was fine; there was no reason for him to lose his grip on himself. He pushed himself off the ground and focused his attention solely on the motel before him where he knew that he would find his brother. His foot made a wet squishing sound and his eyes darted to the ground, widening as they recognised what he had just trodden on. He bent down and scooped up the wallet, flicking it open and shutting it again.

His brain went into denial. Sam was fine maybe he had just lost his wallet. It had fallen out of his pocket; he knew his brother was always doing stuff like that. He stood back up, shoving the black leather into his back pocket and then sticking his hands in his jacket pockets as he continued to walk toward the building (Sam's inside, trying to convince them that he lost his wallet and that he wasn't some physco killer) shooting a glance back toward his precious impala. The lights just about blinded him as he stepped through the door invisible bells chiming his presence for everyone to know. A young woman, plain looking at not in the least attractive smiled crookedly from behind the counter. He cocked his head to the side and stared blankly at her for a few moments before she cleared her throat and spoke in a too-cheery voice.

"Sir- Can I help you?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Uh. Brother missing here?"

She stared at him with her wide-spaced eyes like he was a freak of nature and she sneered slightly. Great, another person who thought he wasn't a proper person. She looked at him in a superior manner before she replied in a continual babble of words, obviously trying to through him off and make him more confused than he already was. It astounded him how unbelievably nasty people could be just for the fun of it.

"Well, I would need your brother's name and a description of him in case we have more than one person under that name. You would be absolutely surprised how many smiths we get in here. Is something wrong?"

It took all of his concentration and will power not to reach forward and slap her hard across the face. He smiled back at her with his trade-mark grin and leant forward.

"No. Brother called Forrester. Sam Forrester."

She gave him a look and for a moment he stood frozen as she stared at the paper in front of her. Her fingers traced down the list of people and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth before she looked up at him and leant her elbows on the counter.

"Well, you're in luck Mr. Forrester. You're brother is in room 601 so here's the key."

She dangled it tantalisingly before him and as he leant forward to pluck it from her fingers she pulled back, a malicious grin on her face. Dean growled deep in his throat and leant forward again as she shimmied back.

"Mess with don't."

"Mess with don't. What are you gonna do, idiot?"

Desperation and blind fury screamed through him. That bitch was in the way of him finding his Sammy. He felt so trapped and no-one was going to take pity on the mentally ill person before him. He jumped as a loud voice barked out and the woman before him suddenly cowered and shoved the keys into his hand. She then retreated back from where she came from, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the room. Alone once more. He walked out the door and turned to the left, his eyes catching the glint of brass on the door. The room 601 was just there, right in front of him. He strode forward, ramming the key into the lock and twisting it open to reveal the room.

The room was absolutely trashed. Covers strewn across the room, bookcase toppled over onto the ground, pages everywhere. The TV was smashed open and circuits exposed to the world. Dean shut the door behind him, eyes racing across the room in an effort to spot if his brother was there. He paced around in a circle before he moved into the bathroom and looked around. Unlike the adjacent bedroom it was pristine clean, not a single thing moved (as far as he could tell) from its place. He walked back into the bedroom, skirting around the bed and to the window. He had a clear view of the impala from here and the rest of the parking lot. His fingers brushed against something sticky and he looked down, extracting his hand quickly. He rubbed his fingers together and held them up to his face, the crimson liquid immediately registering in his mind. His Sammy was hurt. Missing.

He was alone now, more so than ever. Someone had taken Sam and he knew it was because of the hunt. They didn't want him to find out what had happened, and as far as he knew only Sam knew who was responsible. Whoever, or whatever, had caused Dean to lose his mind wanted him to stay that way and Dean was going to hunt the son-of-a-bitch down.

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**A/N: Ok, there's a song you should all try to find that kinda goes with this chapter. Don't Leave Home-by Dido. Anyway, enjoy and such!**


	5. Unwilling

The air was damp and heavy. Every breath he took in felt like an invisible cloth was being rammed down his airways and blocking off his ability to fill his lungs with the much needed oxygen. His hair clung to his head limply and he rolled over to his side, his clothes drenched and stuck to his frozen skin. The ground was covered by a thin layer of water and there was a constant sound of dripping echoing from further away. He pushed himself off the ground and looked around. The room wasn't that big, maybe only two by three if he judged correctly. He rubbed the back of his head with the tips of his fingers and winced in pain as he felt the sizable lump that had formed there. He walked around the perimeter of the room as he continued to take in his new surroundings, so far he hadn't found any sign of a 'normal' door but he had to have gotten in there _somehow_.

He sat down on a nearby crate with a heavy sigh and rubbed at his upper arms to return the circulation. The events from the last time he was conscious replayed in his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened. Memories of the motel woman and how she had been staring at him before she had given him the key to his room. After that he had started to go over to the car when he had noticed the door to his room slightly open, and he had gone to investigate. He sighed and stuck his head in his hands, entwining his fingers in the soaked hair. Most of his possessions were in the Impala with Dean, except his wallet which he assumed had fallen out or been taken since it was no longer on his person. At least Dean might find it before anyone else did.

_Dean_. Sam cursed loudly as he thought of Dean alone and stuck in the middle of nowhere with his little mental issue. Would Dean even be able to ask someone for help without being ridiculed and abused? He stood up and slammed his hand into the nearest wall as the images of his older brother on the side of the road, beaten and bloodied streamed through his mind. A soft snicker came from behind him followed by an almost silent babble of soothing words. Sam turned slowly, slipping easily into defensive mode as he appraised his abductor. A young girl stood before him, her long strawberry blonde tresses curling around her oval face and down to the small of her back. Most of her cheek on the left side of her face was missing, showing the muscle and sinew that attached itself to her jaw.

The rest of her porcelain white face was almost as eerily gruesome. Little cuts marred her smooth skin, and one of her eyeballs bulged so much that the lids couldn't go over it to blink. Folds of skin peeled off her forehead and nose to dangle carelessly almost unnoticed by the girl. She gave a toothy smile and bounded a few steps forward her bare feet splashing through the water. Sam resisted the urge to retch from the sight of her and he backed up against the wall until he could feel every inch of his spine pressed against the stone. The little girl cocked her head to the side and pouted, jutting her lower lip out into a sickening puppy dog expression. She clasped her hands in front of her body and rocked backwards and forwards.

"Don't you want to come play with me?"

Sam grimaced and began to shuffle toward his left, hands flat out over the wall to show that he wasn't going to dart for any weapons (not that he had any anyway.)

"As fun as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

The girl just watched him with a bored expression on her face as she continued to track his progress around the wall. She rolled her eye (the other quivered dangerously and looked like it was about to fall out of its socket) and folded her arms across her chest. Sam stopped moving and stared at her, unsure of her intention for being in the room. He could tell that she had to be a spirit, or maybe a demon. She raised a hand and beckoned him toward her with the curl of a finger. He took an unwilling step forward and then stopped making sure that he had a possible way to keep at least one crate between them.

"Sam Winchester. He thought you weren't going to be stupid enough to come back. _Obviously_ he was wrong. Don't!"

Sam stopped inching toward the iron rod a few feet away from him and looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was glaring at him angrily and her lips were now pursed into a thin line. With a wave of her hand the iron rod went soaring over to the other side of the room whilst Sam was thrown back against the wall, the all-too-familiar sensation of an invisible pressure on his chest telling him that he shouldn't bother moving.

She moved herself nimbly around the crates and boxes as she took a position before him. That was when Sam noticed the odour, the sweet decaying smell of rotting flesh. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and it took all of his willpower to push it back down. She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a slender finger across his lips and cooed softly before she took a step back and sat down on the crate.

"How much longer do you have Sammy? One year, nine months?"

She laughed with glee as Sam glared at her.

"Don't call me Sammy, bitch. And why do you care anyway?"

She clapped her hands over her mouth and assumed a mock shocked expression on her young face before she placed them back down in her lap and wiggled her finger at him.

"I can make it all better _Sam_. All you have to do is ask nicely."

"Right, _better_. What's the catch then?" The sarcasm practically dripped off his tongue much to the annoyance of the demon.

A loud scraping noise floated over from the opposite side of the room and a bright stream of light floated in. The girl's chest inflated suddenly before it was drastically reduced as she let out a sharp sigh and turned around. A shadow appeared at the doorway and a gruff male voice rung out.

"You're not tempting the boy, are you now?"

The demon shook her head furiously and emitted a soft yelp as the shadow continued to advance into the room. Sam felt the pressure release and he pushed himself off the wall, only to come face to face with the man. He looked like the average John Doe. Medium build, short brown hair, pleasant smile but there was something sinister about him that made Sam shiver. The man clapped Sam on the shoulder and ushered him out of his prison cell and into another room. It was bigger and looked a lot like the motel room where he had been abducted from, including the view to the impala. Sam stared at the man and turned around.

The prison room was still visible and still _there_. The man gave a short laugh and petted him on the shoulder again, this time waving a hand in the general direction of the car.

"I just thought I would show you what's about to happen to your brother. You see Sam, when I told you not to come back I meant it. Of course, I knew that you're brother would never be accustomed to living the rest of his life as a nutjob but-."

Sam cursed and watched as his brother was attacked on the way back to the impala. He started to head toward the door but was cut off by the demon child. She shook her head happily and beamed at the older man.

'But! I was expecting him to sacrifice his life to keep you alive longer. You _did_ mention it right?"

"Burn in hell."

"Now now Sam. You being polite and civilised could mean all the difference in saving your brothers life. You catching my drift boy?"

Sam gave the man a defeated look and slumped visibly before he was carefully directed to the bed. The older man clicked his fingers and Sam watched as the thing attacking his brother disappeared. Dean appeared to be confused and he looked around before he got back into the impala and started the ignition. Sam watched him pull out before he focused on the two demons.

"What do you want?"

"That's better. All you have to do is…"

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**A/N: Ok, another exciting chapter done. Minor cliffhanger at the end :p Anyway, reviews are loved and _greatly_ appreciated, also any possible ideas/theories on what notorious deed Sam has to do are welcome to help me update sooner. Enjoy and such!**


	6. Memories

**A/N: Wow, sorry that took so long. My brain crawled into a corner somewhere and it wouldn't come back out for a while. Hopefully this'll make it up to you all. As of the 18th December, any new stories will be posted mainly on my LJ so just follow the link for my homepage. This doesn't include my Darcy stories.**

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Dean sat in the car staring at the cars before him. It had been a grand total of 11 hours since Sam went missing. For the first few hours it had been the intense worry that had caused him to be sick, then after finding their motel room to be trashed and Sammy missing the feeling of separation had increased ten fold and had ended up causing him excruciating pain. He leant heavily against the back seat and stared at the grey ceiling, the shadows making patterns and shapes against the dull tone. The window reverberated loudly as the wind buffeted against it, the sound almost reminiscent of footsteps. 

_Dean could hear footsteps in the room above him; hear the muffled sounds of a voice speaking desperately over a phone. He struggled against the bonds that bound him tightly and grimaced in pain as they bit deeper into his flesh. His eyes scanned the dusty roof for any signs of escape, but hope seemed leave him as only the dust and cobwebs greeted his vision. The pacing stopped and the voice seemed closer, he could almost hear it. Sammy!_

"_Dammit Bobby, he ain't here. Someone jumped him on the way back from the bar- he wouldn't leave the Impala on the side of the road."_

"_Yeah, well, you're wrong. No, I haven't told the police. He's still supposed to be dead remember? It _wasn't_ something supernatural. No, it wasn't."_

"_Bobby…No. Bobby, would you just _listen_ to me? Tuesday,' He could hear Sam snort incredulously before he continued; 'Fine, I'll grab another couple of hours. Bye."_

_Dean heard his younger brother sigh and the footsteps faded from where he could hear them. He struggled in his bonds again and tried to scream out, to let Sam know he was right under his feet._

Dean woke up with a start, cold sweat drenching his clothes. Memories that couldn't be his lingered in his mind and he clutched the side of his head. He barely remembered what had happened in the last hunt, why everything had gone so backwards. He knew Sam didn't remember either, like something had stolen their memories or at least kept them hidden until it was too late. He ran a hand over his mouth, feeling the faint traces of scars from where the last hunt had left its mark. He couldn't figure out how he had gotten them, or why he had gotten them. He wiped a hand over his forehead and scrubbed his face before he looked out of the window once more and started the engine.

He was still afraid; he hated that word so much, that whatever had jumped him the night before wasn't around. He had almost considered it part of him losing his mind until the blood on his arm made him realise that it had been real. He looked into the back seat where he had put all of Sammy's stuff, and he rummaged through it until he found his little brother's phone. Someone on there had to be able to help; he had to find his brother. He stared at the buttons, trying to figure out how to work the blasted thing. He finally manipulated it enough to get the contacts up, pressing call on the first one he found. The phone rung three times before a gruff voice answered it.

"Bloody… It's 3AM Sam, what do you want?"

"Bobby?"

"Dean?"

The pause on the phone seemed to go on forever. He couldn't remember the last time his brother had talked to Bobby; he couldn't remember the last time he had talked to Bobby himself. The last time had been for a hunt a while back and then Bobby had gone off. It appeared that obviously the older hunter was surprised to hear his voice on the end of his receiver.

"Dean? Dean, you still there?"

"Yeah. Sam's gone."

"Sam's gone? What do you Winchester's do to lose each other?" Bobby trailed off for a few moments, but Dean could clearly hear that the man was muttering darkly to himself. He came back a few minutes later and Dean could hear the familiar jingle of keys.

"Listen, where are you?"

Dean stared at the closest sign.

"Thornwood."

"That doesn't tell me much Dean. Dang it, never mind, I'll find you the hard way. Stay there."

It wasn't like Dean had been planning to move that far but he had planned to move in a westerly direction anyway. Besides, he didn't know how long it was going to take Bobby to reach him, and by that time Sam could be dead. He started to shift the car into reverse but stopped and turned off the engine. It was better to wait; Sam would still there when he woke up. He was sure that everything would work out when Bobby came around. He sighed and locked all the doors, lying down on the front seat to sleep.

_He was back in the basement. Light was streaming in from the grates on the walls and he swung helplessly from the ceiling. He couldn't believe that Sam wasn't paying attention to the basement at all; then again he was out most of the day which is when she came in. He shuddered at the thought of her, disbelieving that a child could be so dangerous. He squinted as the light flashed into his eyes and stung them. He dropped his head to his chest and closed his eyes, wanting the nightmare to be over. He grimaced as he heard the footsteps, only this time there was two of them. A man's voice greeted his ears, chirpy and generally good-natured._

"_How are you doing Dean? Sammy still hasn't found you I see. Ah well. Listen, I'll tell you what. Ah, I wouldn't do that Dean, you might tear the stitches."_

_That had been the first thing that demon had done, sewn his lips shut so he couldn't call out to his brother. Then it had trapped him in the basement beneath where they had been staying, so that they didn't actually need to torture him physically rather, he could listen as his brother lost all hope of ever finding him. He glared angrily at his captors and turned his head away, the haunting sound of their laughter still rung in his ears._

Dean bolted upright for the second time that day. He looked over to the passenger window and saw Bobby standing there, two cups of coffee in each of his hands. He leant over and unlocked the door before he opened it from the inside. The older hunter slipped in, his trademark cap sitting on his head as he regarded the elder Winchester. He passed the caffeine over and Dean took it gratefully, sipping it quickly to avoid it burning his tongue. Not that it did much difference in the long run anyway. He settled it down between his legs and stared out the windscreen.

"I take it Sam found you then."

He frowned and looked over to Bobby, confusion evident on his features. Bobby gave a low whistle and took a swig of something that defiantly wasn't coffee. Dean prodded the conversation along.

"Found me where?"

Much to Dean's annoyance his conversation abilities seemed to function perfectly well around people he knew. He balled his left hand into a fist and thumped it against the dashboard, the silent anger that he always kept trying to find a release. He looked back to Bobby and found him staring at him, concern and something more fatherly evident in his eyes.

"I don't know. The last I heard from him was months ago, saying that he had lost you or something. Are you ok?"

He never understood why people asked that question when they knew the answer in the first place. It was clear to everyone, including himself, that Dean wasn't ok. He was far from ok. He had a spot reserved for him in the nut house and the only person that was keeping him from going in there had gone missing. Bobby threw his hands in the air and took another gulp of the liquid.

"Ok, bad question. What's the last thing you remember Sam going to do?"

"Motel, getting room. Last hunt, went bad- made me like this. We're going back."

"You were going back to the last hunt? After what it did to you and _without_ backup? Are the two of you insane?!"

Dean shot him an angry look and Bobby gave a quick apology. So far, all Bobby had done was question him and all he wanted to do was get his brother back. He gave a noise of irritation and drained the coffee cup instead, leaving the awkward silence to linger between them. Bobby took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair before he replaced it and scratched at his beard.

"Look, for all its worth, I'll help you find Sam. I owe you boys that much, but afterwards I'm going to microchip the both of ya like I have Rumsfeld so I can keep track of you."

Dean snorted but held his hand out and the two shook on it.

"Look, I borrowed one of the cars the hunter's left at my salvage yard so I'll drive that. I want you to follow me alright and then we'll go over everything."

With that the older hunter exited the car, and moved over to the faded red sedan next to the Impala. The car started after a few failed attempts and screeched out of the parking lot, much to the embarrassment of Bobby. Dean started the Impala shortly after and followed him through the streets back towards a different motel, one that looked like it hadn't had a redecoration since the 60's. Something looked familiar about it though, and Dean looked across the street to where the bar stood silent in the morning light. He frowned as he parked his car beside the big rainbow sign and stared at it for a few more minutes. He heard a car door swing open and Dean twisted the keys out of the ignition, pocketing them and getting out.

_The bar was loud, wild and defiantly the place where Dean was most comfortable. Apart from when he was hunting that was. He hunched over the glass of scotch that sat before him, eyeing the pretty blonde in the corner. She leant over the pool table and used the cue to sink another three balls, grinning from ear to ear as her competitors grumbled. Dean smirked and scanned the bar for any signs of unusual activity, occasionally they found other hunter's or even vampires hanging around in some of the places that they had visited. Nothing presented itself and Dean drained the rest of his glass, pulling out his wallet and tossing the cash on the bar top, nodding his head as he slipped off the seat. _

_The girl whooped and challenged other people to beat her score. Some answered before he reached the door and he looked over his shoulder to give her one last yearning look, shaking his head as he thought of his brother researching back at the motel lodge they had taken residence in. The cold air nipped at him and he stared at the large fluorescent rainbow sign across the street. He rolled his eyes and stood next to his car, breathing in the crisp air before he got in and started the engine to go 'home'. _

"Dean, you ok son?"

"Stop asking that."

Dean managed to straighten himself and pushed Bobby's hands off his arms. He stared at the sign with vague recognition. They had been there before, before it had all gone south. He remembered teasing Sam about whether he would have preferred lodging there. He clutched at his head again and leant heavily against the Impala. Bobby took a few steps back, unsure of what to do. Dean growled under his breath and wrenched open the back door, pulling out Sam's duffel.

"That's Sam's."

"I _know_!"

He threw the duffel back into the backseat, taking his own out after forcing himself to calm down. Dean Winchester did not lose his cool. Only he was. He slammed the door and locked the car, wincing and apologetically patting the car's roof. He stalked toward the motel entrance, only to stop at the door. Bobby opened it and stepped inside as he moved toward the front desk, looking back to Dean. He followed suit, shivering slightly as the cold assaulted his skin. Bobby banged on the small bell and tapped his foot impatiently against the carpeted ground.

Dean looked around at the rest of the room. It was almost as bad as he had thought it was. The rooms were a hideous shade of lime green, clashing terribly with the hot pink carpet. The paintings on the wall weren't that much better, splashes of colour and whacky designs that could make anyone's eyes bleed. It must have been a hunter thing, picking the motels with the worst décor anyone had seen. A middle-aged woman came out, her face littered with piercings and a sullen look that could have beaten Sam's hands down. She looked at Bobby and then at Dean and blurted out.

"I told the other that I hadn't seen you."

Two voices replied to her statement. "What?"

"Some tall guy came in here about 10 hours ago looking for someone like you. Left a message."

Dean rushed forward, practically flinging himself over the counter to see what message she was talking about. She back pedalled and looked frightened, shoving a grubby piece of paper into his outstretched hand. She looked over to Bobby and flung some keys at him, retreating back into the room she had come out of. Dean didn't pay any attention; instead he gazed at the words scrawled on the paper in Sam's handwriting.

_I'll do it so you won't burn Dean. Don't look for me._

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**A/N: Also, all of my fics are on a one-month hiatus as I'm leaving on holiday and won't be able to update. Don't worry, I'm half a page in to the next chapter anywho!**


	7. Hypocracy

**A/N: Update anyone? Apologies if the chapter seems a bit odd, I'll try and make the next one slightly better.**

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_6 months prior:_

The bright light from his monitor burned into his eyes as he stared at the same article for the fifth time that night. No matter how many times he typed in a different search, the exact same headline popped up at the top of the search page. Sure, they usually had to sift through countless murders and deaths to get to what seemed like a hunt, but it had never been this blatant. Sam felt his left eye begin to spasm and he wrenched his gaze away from the second paragraph to rub at it. He stretched his long body awkwardly in the chair and cleared his throat, looking around the motel room as if for the first time.

Thankfully Sam had been able to choose the motel they stayed in this time; he didn't trust Dean with the rooms anymore and certainly didn't want to stay at the motel two blocks away that looked like it had come straight from the disco era. The faded yolk-yellow wallpaper peeled from the walls and the khaki carpet looked like it could almost be considered a monster. Sam checked his watch again for the twentieth time that night and frowned as the hands inched closer and closer to twelve am. He turned back to the laptop and slammed it closed the room suddenly dimming as the light was cut off. Usually he wouldn't give a second thought to Dean staying out to all hours of the morning but there was something different, something that nagged at him about Dean not being there.

Of course, the more rational part of Sam reasoned that Dean was probably out hustling pool and picking up chicks as he did it. Sam stood up and paced over to the window, pulling back the curtain to see if the Impala was pulled up outside. The empty parking lot greeted his vision and Sam frowned as he moved over to his bed, flopping down heavily into the hard mattress. He silently reminded himself to berate Dean later about not paying closer attention to the hunt as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

_Barp! Barp! Barp! Barp!_

Sam's eyes shot open as the alarm on his cell went off. He fumbled around on the bedside table to locate it, cursing darkly as he kept missing the right keys to turn it off. He stretched his long arms above his head and groaned as he turned his head toward the bed to his left. It took a few moments to process what he didn't see. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in (or even sat on for that matter) and there was no trace of Dean in the room. Sam sat upright and practically launched himself toward the window, his fingers once again fumbling with the buttons on his cell to double-check that his brother hadn't called.

His cell chirped at him with a negative answer and from what Sam could see outside, the Impala wasn't there. Concern and fear twisted his stomach into knots and for a few moments a wave of dizziness came over him. He grasped the table corner to steady himself and dialled Dean's number. The phone rang through and went straight to Dean's voicemail. Sam cursed again and redialled, biting the bottom of his lip as the message began to play.

"Damnit Dean, where are you?"

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Sam couldn't bring himself to look at the child in the eyes. Sam had always sworn to himself that he would never give into any of the demon's demands, but it had been Dean. True, his brother would probably have wanted Sam to let him die than go around doing the demon's bidding, but then again Dean had always been stronger. The infant gurgled in its throat and lifted its arms up to him, a smile on its chubby face. He leant over the cradle and touched its smooth cheek, flinching as its warm blue gaze settled on his face. He turned away from the child and went to move away from its resting place, only to spot the demon leaning on the door frame.

He glared at it and balled his hand into a fist ignoring the Demon's look of amusement at his predicament. The Demon moved over to stand beside him, looking down at the child and he stroked its cheek softly.

"Such a sweet little child, don't you think Sammy?"

Sam kept his gaze on the ground and refused to look at the infant anymore. The Demon tutted under his breath and picked the still gurgling infant up and walked over to Sam, placing the child into his arms. Sam tightened his grip on the baby as it wriggled in his arms, hands and legs moving jerkily like a tiny robot. The Demon grinned at him and stuck his hands in his pockets before he nodded his head to the door and pushed Sam towards the door. Sam stumbled for a moment wincing as the baby gave a worried wail at the sudden movement.

"Y'know Sam, if you do well enough I can make the deal go away."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do Sammy. The deal you made to save your brother's life. The _reason_ why you're dying and your brother is insane."

Sam whirled around the face the demon, ignoring the fact that the occupants of the house would probably hear him. The Demon cocked his head to the side and waited.

"I didn't make a deal! I've already seen what happens to people who make them; we both know that what's dead should stay dead. I'm not going to throw away what I believe is right."

"Not even to save your own flesh and blood? You know Dean would do it to save you don't you? Dean's a hypocrite Sam."

Sam stepped toward the Demon and snarled, the urge to exorcise the thing burning inside him.

"Dean would never do it. Dean knows better than that. Demons lie."

The Demon placed a hand over its hosts' heart and looked hurt for a few moments before it shrugged and continued to walk casually through the house. Sam could hear the faint sounds of the TV going but the rest of the house was dead silent. The sinking feeling in his stomach told him that the parents were most likely dead. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath as he obediently trailed after the Demon.

"You hurt me Sam. Alas, there is probably nothing I can say to change your mind about it. Now, hurry up."

Sam clutched the unknown baby to his chest as they made their way out of the apartment and toward the door before any form of alarm went off. Secretly Sam hoped that the alarm would go off and somehow that the Demon's plans would be wrecked but he had learnt the hard way that usually to do that you required a gun. Sam turned back to face the house again and watched as the baby pointed a hand back towards the front door, wailing loudly as flames flared up from inside its nursery and the screams of its parents echoed through the night.

Sam struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat and glared at the Demon, tightening his hold around the child in a futile attempt to protect it. All he could do is hope that he would find someway out of it and save Dean, the child and anyone else caught up in the Demon's plans.


	8. SOS

**A/N: Wow, it's been so long. This chapter isn't long, I'm still fiddling with the last of the backstory _but _rest assured, it'll all work out. Dean's been a bit hard to write for lately hence why most of my fics haven't been updated, but if anyone feels up to beta'ing some of my work, feel free to drop a line. **

Dean paced around the room like he had a pair of hell hounds on his tail

Dean paced around the room like he had a pair of hell hounds on his tail. The damp, musty smell of the motel room nauseated him and made him gradually more frustrated with each passing minute. The only thing running through his head was Sam's note that was currently scrunched up in the palm of his hand, taunting him.

"Would you stand still for a minute Dean? You're making me dizzy and I don't do dizzy."

Dean stopped momentarily and fidgeted on the spot before he resumed his pacing, he could already imagine what Sam was going through without him. Bobby stepped in front of him and held his upper arms to still him, the older man accentuating each word.

"Dean, pacing isn't going to help Sam. We need to talk about the hunt."

"Nothing about the hunt. No sense. Broken."

Dean tapped his temple with a smirk before he moved onto to the bed and flopped wearily into it. Bobby sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets before he pulled up the only chair in the room and sat down in front of Dean.

"Listen, you're not broken. You're not muttering about hearing voices or talking to bananas like the normal crazy people. Whatever the Demon did to you, we can fix it. You just have to pull your head together."

Dean sat up and watched Bobby, an almost childish look of hope on his face. Bobby patted Dean hesitantly on the shoulder and pulled over a piece of paper and a pen, looking at Dean pointedly. Dean stared at him for a few moments before Bobby prompted him.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Dean frowned in concentration and ran a hand through his hair.

"Bar. Girl at… pool table. Then being in a cellar, tied up. Sammy upstairs, calling you. Demon!"

"Woah, slow down son. There was a demon?"

He nodded as he rubbed the back of the neck, his gaze averted as he seemed to pull back into himself. Haunted by memories that didn't make sense to his already addled mind and unable to get anyone to help him make sense of them. The way everything made sense to him and if he could only just reach out a little further to the thoughts and say them the right way to other people- to make them understand what he meant. Bobby leant back in his chair and patiently waited for Dean to continue, resisting the urge to prod Dean faster.

Dean shook his head a few times before he looked up and focused his green eyes on Bobby's and for a moment Bobby swore he saw something change, something re-connect in Dean's fractured mind. It faded as Dean's eyes glazed over and seemed to retreat once more back into himself and Bobby listened to Dean's soft murmurings.

"It came from the bar. Locked me in the basement, made me listen to Sam lose hope of ever finding me. Sewed my lips shut so I couldn't cry out."

"Dean. Dean!"

Bobby leant forward and roughly shook the younger man from his trance-like state. Sure Dean was finally starting to make some sense but he didn't need to lose him now. After nearly two and a half decades hunting, Bobby knew the tell-tale signs of when someone's head had been messed up by a demon. Dean didn't carry any marks on him from having his mouth sewn closed and both the Winchester's had been doubly cautious about making sure that they carried an assortment of anti-possession amulets and trinkets on their persons at all times. He sighed again and rubbed his eyes wearily. Damn Winchester boys were going to be the death of him.

Dean kept his eyes away from Bobby's, angry at the older man for breaking his connection, angry at himself for not being able to remember that much. He felt his throat tighten and itch and Dean growled as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He was not going to cry over this. Bobby removed his cap from his head wearily and rubbed a hand through his rapidly thinning hair before he replaced the hat back on his head. He remembered Dean as a little kid, eager eyes and practically worshipping the ground his father walked on. He looked up to Dean again whom had taken a position next to the window and was glaring outside.

"Well, at least we got somewhere. Maybe after a good night's rest…"

Dean whirled around and strode over to where Bobby sat, his lips curled back in a snarl and his eyes blazing with anger. He was almost nose to nose with Bobby when he stopped and stated coldly;

"_Brother_ out there. Demon, chaining Sam."

"I know that Dean but we ain't going to get him back if you're dead on your feet."

Dean glared at Bobby for good measure and walked over to the window, staring outside as if it had all the answers. The bar across the road blinked at him with neon lights almost like they were sending him an SOS message. He unfurled the note that Sam had left and stared at the neat handwriting on the page, the way the l's looped at an awkward angle and the way he crossed his t's. He stared back at the bar and then at the note.

Like a message.

Dean practically high-tailed it out of the motel room as he made his way towards the message Sam had left him.

_I'll do it so you won't burn Dean. Don't look for me._

Dean knew that Sam had dreamt that Jessica was burning on the ceiling before it had happened. The bar across the road was called 'The Burning Shack.', it seemed almost too easy to Dean that it was clear what Sam was trying to do, like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to follow. He ignored Bobby's protests and headed toward the bar, ignoring the stares of the motel staff as he flung open the door.

All his answers were at the bar. He could feel it in his bones.


	9. Impressionable

**A/N: There's the next Sam chapter. I'll be busy now revamping and replacing my Shifter's saga from the very beginning, so updates will be sporadic. Reviews appreciated :)**

Sam watched from the corner where he had been caged in by the Demon. It had wandered off with the little girl that it insisted on keeping around leaving Sam alone with the baby they had removed from its family. The baby stared at him with her large doe eyes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everything in her life had taken a downwards turn. She babbled loudly, using as much force as her tiny lungs could give her as she demanded attention. Sam moved his tired limbs and pressed himself against the bars of the cage, making noises to get the baby to calm down.

It was, he decided, a _lot_ harder than he had originally thought. For a brief moment he felt a sympathy pang for Dean who had more or less raised him as a child but then again, Dean never had to entertain him from inside a cage. The baby turned its head toward Sam and babbled something, her eyes boring into his own with such intensity that Sam flicked his eyes away. There was something eerie about the infant and the way it seemed to know more about its surroundings than it should. She gave him a gummy grin and waved her hands about in the air.

He sagged back into the ground and frowned as he played with the sand on the bottom on his cage. The note he left for Dean should have provided Dean enough to figure out what was going on with his end, but the way the demon had spoken about the deal and being able to reverse it, it was almost too tempting to refuse. He knew Dean would most likely object to him playing along with the Demon and helping it to achieve whatever it was that it wanted but his brother only really saw black and white. He wasn't about to leave Dean alone and insane after he died.

He could almost sense that the answer to everything was at the back of his mind, a memory that was just too far back to remember but lingered on the borders. Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he forced himself to concentrate on what happened after he discovered Dean had gone missing and when he had found him again. He pulled up blank and cursed loudly.

"Now now, we wouldn't want to damage impressionable young minds with such language."

Sam jumped and turned his head to face the Demon. The little girl that accompanied him everywhere was playing with the baby and Sam tore his eyes away from them. The baby let out a squeal and the little girl laughed with childlike amusement, fooling anyone to the real fact that a demon controlled her. He turned his attention to the older Demon and he stood up from the ground, pressing himself against the bars of his cage.

"What do you want from me? You have the child."

"Sammy, do you _really_ think that I would just let you go? I'm giving you a chance to remove yourself of the deal and save your brother."

"A chance at what? Sacrificing innocent children just to save my brother?"

The Demon gently petted the girl on the head as she picked up the infant girl and cradled her to her chest. The baby started wailing and the little girl sneered as she grew bored of holding the infant. Sam suddenly had a mental image of the demon girl dropping the child but the Demon took the infant off her and pushed the little girl in the direction of the door. She pouted heavily and played with the hem of her dress as she looked up at him with large eyes and he shook his head. She snarled and walked out of the room leaving the Demon alone with Sam.

"You're not sacrificing them Sam. You're helping them."

"With what?' He said disbelieving, 'Losing their innocence? Destroying their families to save my own?"

The Demon looked at him exasperatedly and sat down on a nearby crate, the infant having calmed down after being released from the little girl's clutches. He bounced her a few times but otherwise ignored her.

"Sure, they may lose their parents but _think_ Sam. I'm helping them the same way the 'Yellow-Eyed Demon' as you knew him by was helping you and your generation of gifts."

"We killed him if you recall."  
"He got sloppy. Became too sure of himself, he left you after he killed your parents."

The images of the other Special Kids flicked one by one across his mind as he frowned at the baby. He couldn't believe he was considering _helping_ a demon. The deal still nagged at the back of his mind and he pushed it away. He wasn't about to lose his conscience just so he could save their own hides. The Demon piped up again, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"I could always kill you though. It would save me a lot of trouble in the long run but you're too valuable to just let you die."

"What about the deal then?"

"Safety precautions."

"And if I don't help you?"

The Demon stood up and opened the door of Sam's cage, allowing the tall hunter to stretch his legs properly. Sam exited the cage warily, smiling briefly as the infant spied him and babbled happily. His face resumed a glare though as he turned his attention to the Demon and folded his arms across his chest.

"You will Sam. You have no choice. For her sake."

He handed the infant over to the hunter and Sam took her gently, wincing as she grabbed a lock of his hair and tugged on it harshly. The Demon laughed and indicated for Sam to move toward the door. Sam moved out the same way the demon girl had left, his footing unsure as he slipped across the puddles that lined the hallways. The Demon pushed past him and led the way, past various other doors and rooms. It seemed almost like the Demon had assembled and built an entire city. The little girl appeared again from a room off to his left and inside he could see another three children. They looked at him curiously for a moment before they resumed what they had been doing.

Sam surged forward to catch up to the Demon and with his free hand shoved the Demon back into the wall. The Demon looked down at the girl and he could feel a blinding heat surging up through his spine. He released the Demon and whimpered in pain as the girl released her hold on him. She snickered as the baby wailed in his arms and Sam snarled as she went forward to touch the baby. She retracted her hand almost immediately and then looked up at the Demon as she clapped her hands excitedly together. She looked back down at Sam.

"We're going to have fun together."


End file.
